


Not Much

by Swabilliant



Series: Minimal Infinities (Flash fiction pieces) [3]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:27:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swabilliant/pseuds/Swabilliant
Summary: A glimpse into the reality above.
Series: Minimal Infinities (Flash fiction pieces) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079060





	Not Much

People once waited years for a chance of a single glimpse.  
It was, truly, the event of a lifetime, after all- to gaze upon the infinite nothing.  
Some came away from it bored or unamused. “Try closing your eyes,” they’d say, “It’s no different.”  
Others were deeply moved and made reservations often. Life changing and revolutionary it was to them, to observe the reality which once was, almost separate from their own.  
I walked carefully down the sidewalk, approaching the edge of the industrial zone.  
Personally, I just wanted to try it. I saved up. It doesn’t cost much nowadays, people hardly reserve sights.  
I skipped over a pothole in the concrete, nearly falling into a tree. The sun shone brightly upon me and warmed me to my core.

After The Cold Era began, everything was moved to simulators. Power was drawn from black holes, gravitationally, usually. No one had any major quarrel with living inside a simulation. We are taught, after all, that it is identical to base reality. 

I turned left, crossing a bridge and leading down a walk, heading into the tall, grey building.  
The viewports were manufactured for who knows what- some reconnaissance perhaps, to spot new masses to take use of, before The Cold began. Now everyone is simulated. I met a receptionist in the opening office, he told me to take a left and go two doors down. The room I was instructed to was colder than the others. A person dressed casually told me to take a seat in a comfy looking chair. Upon sitting, it was as comfortable as it looked. My arms relaxed. I fell down into a sleepy state, at the edge of consciousness, and it then took me. My eyes were closed and I heard a voice, monotone but friendly: “Engaging viewport #A0925667…”  
It was silent.  
Another voice as I felt a weightlessness lift my very soul into an airy, feathery state:  
“Viewport engaged. Viewing status: Enabled.”  
My eyes were closed, but they were no longer my eyes.  
My mind surrendered into the mechanical: I was present within the next reality up.  
Before viewing what was before me, or perhaps not before at all, I considered the existence of these ports. Perhaps maintenance? Who knew? The knowledge had long died out.  
When I opened my eyes, I had to double check that I even did.  
It was an overwhelming nothingness in every non-direction.  
I felt panicked at first, as if drowning or suffocating, as if buried alive. I rationalized, though, and felt calm again upon settling.  
This was the world that once was.  
There was no light anywhere. I could not even perceive the computronics in which my body, detached from it though I was, still existed.  
A voice came, startling me:  
“Shutting down viewport.”  
I came to, again in the comfy chair.  
“So, how’d it go?” asked the individual who operated the apparatus.  
I shrugged.

It was not much.


End file.
